The Heart of a Duke(10)
He recalled his father seeking him out to ride over the estate, meet with tenants, and discuss his plans for the land. Like water given to a desert traveler, he had lapped up every moment, desperate to fill the cavernous hole of his loneliness. It served to remind him that his father hadn’t entirely forgotten him.
So how could he forget his father or neglect his legacy?
He could not. But Bedford Hall was Edmund’s domain, and Daniel’s options were limited. His brother had made it clear when he inherited the title that he did not want, nor appreciate, Daniel’s input or advice in regard to estate matters. All he desired from Daniel was the view of his backside kicked out the front door and his promise to never return.
An image of Julia’s flushed features flashed before him. Hell, the damage had been done. He had already trespassed on forbidden ground, and he’d be damned if he regretted doing so.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
He would visit his father’s estates and see the changes Edmund’s management had wrought. Resolved, he glanced up at Robbie. “And where is my evil twin these days? In London? Or rusticating here in the country?”
Robbie smiled. “A buyer of mine mentioned he was joining Bedford at a hunting party in Kent, so that should give you some time.
“While the cat’s away . . .” He let his words trail off.
“Exactly. The wee mice can strategize . . .” Robbie agreed.
Edmund had not only left his lands open to trespassers, but had left his lovely fiancée alone as well.
Daniel surmised Julia would make an appearance at the fall festival. Attending the fair had moved to the top of his agenda.
He anticipated their paths crossing again. She would still be spitting mad, but he could not summon regret for kissing her. Would make no apologies for doing so. Damned if he did not want to do it again.
Privately he added that to his growing agenda.
Chapter Three
JULIA had spent a restless night tossing and turning, feeling hot and sweaty one moment and in the next, yearning for something just beyond her grasp . . .
As she traversed the fairgrounds the next morning, she worried her lower lip, oblivious to the crowds jostling her as she pondered her reaction. Should a kiss affect one so? Considering it had been her first, she had no idea. Something tightened in her chest, pain at having to concede that Daniel’s kiss had been her first, for she was long past the age when a woman should have a few illicit pecks to boast about.
More to the point, her first kiss should have been with Edmund. It should have been special, memorable. Not to say that Daniel did not kiss very well, or as well as she could judge, having no comparisons in regard to such matters. She furrowed her brow, finding it hard to believe another kiss could be more thorough than theirs had been, or be done more expertly, or be more . . .
“Julia?”
The amused voice penetrated her runaway thoughts and Julia jumped, turning to blink at her sister. “What . . . where?”
“I believe those are my questions.” Emily laughed. “What in the world are you thinking about? Your cheeks are bright pink.” Emily studied her more closely. “In fact, you look a bit feverish, are you all right? Really, Julia, you have not been yourself since you rushed into the house yesterday, looking as if the Hounds of Hell were on your heels. What is the matter with you?”
It was an incredibly long speech for Emily, for her sister had become a woman of few words since Jason’s death two years ago. It put Julia in a quandary, for while delighted to see Emily find her voice, it was an inopportune moment for her to do so—or to be so astute.
“Julia?”
“Well, I . . .” She felt as if she had been caught doing something forbidden. And she was not, or she was not anymore. Feeling her cheeks flame, she met Emily’s amused regard, struggling to form a response when none came to mind.
The surrounding crowds rescued her from her reticence. Snatches of conversations rose above the din.
“He’s right crazy!”
“Don’t care. I got me two bob ridin’ on Black Devil tossing the toff on his arse. I aim to get me a new trowel with me winnings.”
“He must have lost his wits in America. It’s right dangerous for a bloke to be witless round Black Devil.”
“Well, here’s hoping he don’t find ’em. I need me a new trowel.”
“He’s got the looks of His Grace, and His Grace has a right fine seat on a horse. Might want to be rethin’ your wager.”
Julia heard no more. The comparison to His Grace identified the witless toff. As much as she’d like to see Robbie Tanner’s new, unbroken stallion toss Lord Daniel Bryant on his hindquarters, she could not face the man just yet. Not when tongue-tied and under Emily’s suspicious regard.